The old woman wrapped herself in the bearskin blanket,
Shivering from cold within the rustic cabin in the woods.
The Big Toothed Aspen rose loftily outside the window.
Thinking of her childhood, her thoughts meandered.
Leaves on the aspen danced theatrically with the wind,
Her eyes twinkled with encounters she remembered.
The wind, the leaves, the children partnering whimsically.
A song echoes in the wrinkles of her childhood memory.
Something of gratitude for God and his creations.
And she is deeply grateful for each fluttering leaf
As it dances in the serene wind singing its glory.
Finally home, the blooms of truth blossoming…
…throughout her soul.
Eclectra 